


Dam Busting

by dunn0man



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Disordered Eating, Fix-It of Sorts, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Mental Health Issues, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Swears, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-01 22:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunn0man/pseuds/dunn0man
Summary: It had been eating him, he was finally, finally going to die and it was going to be from his own guilt and self-loathing (but then again, he was always going to die from his own guilt and self-loathing).Steve is burning from both ends, he's ruining his future to chase his past and he finally cracks, just a little, but it's enough to fuck everything up for everyone. Go Steve!(Or how Steve Rogers uses his words to create calamity - or avoid it, depending on how you look at it)....Part of this popped into my head when I was supposed to be revising and I kinda wrote the rest around it, so I don't really know where it's going but hopefully it's good.





	1. Forgive me Father for I have Sinned

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction and also the first thing I've written in a while, so please review!
> 
> I don't own any of these characters and all mistakes are my own.

It had been eating him, he was finally, finally going to die and it was going to be from his own guilt and self-loathing (but then again, he was always going to die from his own guilt and self-loathing).

 

He and Sam had arrived back from Lithuania after another dead end. Sam had taken a connecting flight back to DC to see his family, or check on his vets or something, Steve hadn’t been listening. He’d made Steve promise to go back to the compound to eat and sleep, particularly eat. But Steve doesn’t go home. Nat’s there and she’ll either notice that something is wrong with him, that he’s rotting from the inside out, or she won’t, like she hasn’t so far, and he doesn’t know which option is worse. So he goes to Brooklyn. It’s not home, Brooklyn had never really been home - home had been Buck and Ma. Home _now_ is - should be - Buck but there’s a tug in his mind when he thinks of home that reminds him home is also the Avengers; Nat’s smile, Thor’s laugh, Sam’s hand on his shoulder, Tony’s wise cracks, Wanda dancing after dinner, Bruce’s shoulder pressing against his and Clint’s humour that reminds him of -. There’s a motel a block over from where his and Bucky’s apartment was. He pays for one night and crawls into bed even though it’s only mid morning. He can feel the springs of the mattress protruding from under the itchy sheet when he lies down and that feels a bit like home too. He has to find Bucky, because Bucky is his actual home and he’ll die trying if he has to. He thinks he might, he thinks about how he hasn’t been able to eat or sleep since they discharged him, he thinks about how even though it’s been six months he can still feel his bones creak and his face throb from the injuries, he thinks about Howard and Bucky and Tony, and the last time he died for Bucky. He thinks absently it doesn’t make sense that his body is destroying itself for Buck so it is probably doing it because he hasn’t told Tony, because he knows he’s hurting Tony just as much by not telling him as he is by telling him. He thinks he should be destroying himself for Bucky (again) not Tony but the thought makes him want to throw up until he ceases to exist. He goes downstairs to the motel lobby and drinks two cups of coffee, black. It’s strong and grainy and disgusting and just exactly how coffee from Brooklyn used to taste. He gets on his bike and drives to Malibu. Only stopping for gas, and a granola bar, but only after it feels like his stomach acid has already burnt through his lining and started in on his muscles.

 

He’d told Tony he was home, and he thought he probably meant it. He had meant it, at the time. But the new avengers - they were great - but when he thought about home - about home in the new century- he thought about Nat, and Sam, Thor and Bruce (God he missed them), Clint who now only visits on occasion. And Tony. He wasn’t sure if Tony could still count as home since he hadn’t been able to be near him since seeing that newspaper article. It was like when he’d just come out of the ice all over again, and he hadn’t been able to look at Tony because he was so angry, so burningly angry, that he wasn’t Howard. He knew that none of the avengers, no one in - from - this century would ever mean as much to him as Bucky, as Peggy, as the Howlies, as Erskine and Howard, hell as much as Phillips, but he couldn’t lose anyone else. He’d lost enough fucking people already he wasn’t going to lose Tony. Unless, when he tells Tony he wants nothing to do with Steve Rogers anymore, that would be fair enough. His mind takes him back to the hospital visit, he hadn’t looked Tony in eye, but then he’d been concussed to hell and couldn’t really keep his eyes in one place long enough to look anyone in the eye so maybe Tony hadn’t noticed. He’d definitely noticed when they got home - to the compound - when Steve wouldn’t - couldn’t talk to him for more than a minute. And fuck, how is Steve going to have this conversation - Steve has never been good at just talking - he didn’t really need to before Captain America, Bucky and Ma always knew what he was saying without him having to actually say anything. He didn’t really need to after Captain America either. He thought Captain America could probably deliver this news even so, but Steve is too frayed, too jittery, too goddamn exhausted to be Captain America now. He’s figured out that Steve Rogers and Captain America cannot coexist. He had thought that Steve Rogers died in the ice, hoped that he had because that was the fucking plan, but then Thor, of all people, had wormed his way into to Steve’s heart and revived him a little. Then Tony had slipped his way in, only because he was an idiot who was incapable of looking after himself and he wasn’t all that like Howard after all, which meant Steve could actually breath around him. Then Nat had used her super-spy skills and just kicked the damn door down so the rest had trickled in and kept Steve Rogers’ heart beating inside the shell of Captain America. He didn’t know if he was glad or angry about that, he decided he was probably numb about it, he was numb about most things these days.

 

Steve arrives at 2.30 am, he doesn’t even think about the time as he raps on the door. He leans his body against the adjoining glass panel, he doesn’t think his body could support itself without the help of his bike seat. He closes his eyes in the hopes it will loosen the claw around his chest, he can hear Friday’s voice chiming out within the house and the low level of Tony and Pepper’s voices from the bedroom upstairs before two sets of feet are coming down the stairs, one quickly, the other trailing behind.

 

“Steve?” The door swings open, Tony’s hair is ruffled and his voice hoarse from sleep. Steve opens his mouth but nothing is going to get past this damn claw around his windpipe.

 

“Come in.” Tony says, placing a hand on Steve’s arm and leading him inside, he pretends not to notice the way Steve tenses under his touch.

 

“Why don’t you two go into your office Tones, and I’ll bring you both some coffee.” Pepper says standing at the bottom of the stairs clutching a robe closed around her waist.

 

“Thanks Pep. He likes it black, right Steve?” Steve nods stiffly and the jerky movement makes both Tony and Peppers’ eyes harden with concern.

 

This had been a bad idea. He should go but his body is’t listening to his brain and Tony is already leading him into his office and depositing him into a big leather chair. Steve sinks down in the padding and briefly wonders if the chair could swallow him whole. Tony turns on a lamp on his desk so that he can see the state of Steve without startling him with harsh lights. It isn’t good. He’s shaking, Tony had only ever seen Steve shake with tremors like that when he was down a couple pints of blood.

 

“Are you injured?” Steve doesn’t reply, doesn’t even move his eyes off the spot in the coffee table he’d been looking at since he sat down. “Steve? Friday run a -“

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Yeah I can see that Capsicle. You’re just Dandy!”

 

Before Steve could fail to make a witty come back Pepper enters with the coffee. She puts Steve’s on the table in front of him and then walks over to give Tony his, Steve picks up on the look between them, understands that he’s scaring them but he can’t pull himself together enough to stop it.

 

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.” She squeezes Steve’s shoulder on the way out.

 

They sit in silence and Steve takes a sip of his coffee which burns his mouth, he relishes the feeling. It was the opposite of the ice, it was hell fire, and Steve is almost completely overtaken by the need to say a Hail Mary, but he’s not sure he believes in God anymore so he pushes the urge down within himself.  Tony fidgets in the silence, blowing on his coffee, shifting from foot to foot, retying the string on his pyjama pants.

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong? Because I gotta say this whole staring into the distance and quaking like a fucking leaf is starting to freak me out. Not that you can’t do that if that’s what you need to do but I need to know what you need me to do because you obviously came here for a reas-”

 

“Bucky’s alive”

 

Steve feels like he’s just thrown up, he can taste the bile in his mouth once the words leave it so he gulps down some more coffee. It’s the kind of coffee they have at the compound, it’s rich and smooth and he hates it, it should be more bitter, it should taste like a punishment, it should taste like home, like Brooklyn. Tony stares at him and Steve is too tired to work out what the expression means.

 

“When he - when he fell -” he stops and swallows, the claw has come back with vengeance and the spot he was staring at on the coffee table has started swimming around in the black of the glass surface, “he didn’t die. Just lost his arm, and Hydra found him.”

 

“Oh God, Steve...” Tony trails off, he doesn’t know where he was going to go with that but Steve seemed as if he’d finished for a while.

 

“They - er - made him like me. But they brainwashed him - they fucked with his head!” And suddenly all the rage that had consumed him when he was a kid was burning again after all these years. The boiling heat of his blood forces him to jump up, spilling his coffee all over his hand as he slams the mug on the table, he doesn’t even feel it.

 

“They fucked with his head and made him kill people - and - and - and he doesn’t remember me.” The fire that had consumed him burnt out just as quickly as it had lit and standing there in front of his chair Steve felt so tired he thought he might just keel over and die. Tony was at his side pushing him back down into the chair, and Steve thought maybe he wasn’t wrong about the dying thing. Tony opens his mouth but Steve gets there first. He knows if he doesn’t say it now, this second, he never would.

 

“He killed Howard - Howard and your mom.” Steve uses all the energy he can muster to clench his hands into fists, so tightly he can feel the blood pounding underneath his palm against his fingers, begging to get out. He can’t cry now, this is about Tony, Steve’s feelings don’t matter. But it's only just hit Steve that it was Howard, his Howard that Buck - The Winter Soldier - had killed and he felt more disorientated than he had when he’d woken up from the ice.

 

Tony isn’t sure if he’s breathing, he's fairly certain he isn’t. He feels the cold marble floor against his ass as his body crashes down next to the chair. He wants to punch someone. No. He wants to kill someone, but the only person here is Steve and he could never kill Steve, especially when he is this fucked up. He definitely isn’t breathing. All he can see is his mom’s smile, it feels like it’s stretching across his mind, across his body, consuming him. Except instead of warm and loving it’s cold and dead and draining him of everything that made him human, like it’s shutting down is organs or something. He feels like he’s just been told they died all over again. That they had been killed. He definitely isn’t breathing. Steve says something, Tony doesn’t hear what, just registers it had been said and that any other time he would have been concerned by the way the voice was void of emotion. Friday replies. Then Steve stands, puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders, and as he does so Tony notices the red on them, he didn’t know why he feels that should be important. He definitely isn’t breathing. He feels himself being pulled up and put into the chair Steve had been in. Then his head is pushed between his knees and a hot, damp hand comes to rest on the nape of his neck. Fuck. Maybe he is going into shock. Steve is whispering sorry over and over in his ear but the word doesn’t mean anything.

 

When Pepper breaches the room she is not prepared for what she sees, she had been expecting something more… violent? Friday had informed her that Captain Rogers had told Boss some new information about his parent’s death and they required assistance. Steve knew how to deal with Tony, how to deal with his panic attacks, he was better at calming Tony down than she was half the time, so if they asked for her she thought she was probably going to be running in on an attempted murder. She stops short when she sees Tony hyperventilating in the chair blood on his arms and neck, Steve crouching over him looking half dead and entirely panicked with tears streaming down his face. She gathers herself, walks over as calmly as she can so as not to spook either of them. Pulls Steve away from Tony with startling ease and pushes him towards the chair on the other side of the table, not really caring if he reaches it, just that he’s out of her way. Then she finds Tony’s pulse point and gently pulling his head up, making their eyes meet.

 

“Copy my breathing Tones, come on. You’re okay. In … 2…3…4…5…6…7. Out…” they continued breathing, 7, 11, until Tony seemed to snap back into himself and envelop her in his arms, suddenly crying.

 

They pull apart and Pepper seems to remember Steve at the same time Tony does. He’s standing a few paces away from the chair, blood swiped on his jean pockets. He jerks back when they looked over to him.

 

“I’m sorry Tony. I should have told you earlier.” He walks toward the door stiffly, but Tony catches his wrist in a vice like grip as he passes the chair. Steve stops but stays facing the door, Tony’s eyes are so much harder to look at than he’d imagined they would be every time he had dreamt of telling him.

 

“Are you looking for him? Is that what you and bird-boy have been doing running all over the world?”

 

Steve only swallows, bowing his head. Tony lets go, he might have been about to say something but Friday’s voice rings out.

 

“Miss Romanoff is calling, shall I tell her it’s a bad time?” Tony is about to say yes but Pepper cuts in telling Friday to accept the call.

 

“ _Tony? I know it’s early, but Steve’s plane got in yesterday and Sam said he was coming straight back to the compound but he hasn’t arrived. I tried tracking his bike but I couldn’t pull anything. I’m worried_ -”

 

“I’m here Nat” Steve replies tiredly, knowing that Natasha would know what that really meant.

 

“ _Oh_ .” A long pause and then “ _Should I come?”_

 

Tony says “You knew too?” at the same time Pepper says “Yes.” There is a long pause before Steve sighs and speaks.

 

“I was just about to head” he stops before the word ‘home’ comes out of his mouth, “back.”

 

“It’s three in the morning Steve, and you’re in no state to drive. Stay in the guest room and we’ll sort all this out in the morning when we’ve had some sleep and eaten and Natasha’s here.” Pepper says firmly, her CEO voice creeping in around the edges.

 

Natasha hangs up with a promise to be there at 9. Pepper links hands with Tony, pressing herself into his side and takes him up to bed, wrapping herself around him and holding him under the covers as the tears return. Steve follows Friday’s directions to the guest room, bypassing the bed and going straight for the shower. He turns it to the coldest setting. He was supposed to have died. They both were.


	2. In the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly

Nat’s there at 8. She, Pepper and Tony formulate a plan and it feels a little weird because Steve is always the one that formulates plans, it’s part of the whole Captain thing. Tony doesn’t say much (also weird) but what he does say clearly pains him to do so, and Nat can’t help feeling proud that he says it anyway. She is sitting at the kitchen counter next to Dum-E and a plate piled high with bacon when Pepper comes back down stairs at 9.

 

“Steve’s awake. I was just going to get him.” Natasha says as way of greeting.

 

“How do you know he’s awake?” Pepper had walked past his room and listened for his breathing, he’d sounded asleep. Natasha smiles what Tony calls her ‘spy-smile’.

 

“He never sleeps later than 6, and Sam says he hasn’t slept more than 2 hours a night since he was discharged.” 

 

She doesn’t say she can hear his heart beating a million miles an hour through the ceiling. It’s second nature to keep the fact she has a version of the serum running through her veins close to her chest, even though since the fall that information is available to the public, and she’s certain Pepper has read the Avengers’ files for damage control purposes. She slides off the barstool and squeezes Pepper’s hand before walking upstairs to Steve’s room. She deliberately makes a sound with each step to let him know she’s coming, give him time to get his ass in gear. She even knocks before she enters, mostly because she thinks it something Sam would do, and there’s a small voice in the back of her head that’s telling her it should really be him here. Steve’s lying on the bed, still in his clothes from the flight, blood on his jeans. She doesn’t say anything just chucks the bag of fresh clothes she’d brought from the compound onto the bed next to him and folds herself into the chair to wait. Steve sits up mechanically and pulls the clothes out of the bag, he goes towards the bathroom - 

 

“Think you’ve been in the shower long enough to be clean, don’t you?” 

 

There’s a challenge in her voice that lets him know she’s irritated by his stupidity, that’s how Natasha does concern. He hates that she can read him so easily and then he realises that his hair and clothes are wet, as is the place where he’d been lying on the bed and he’s shivering, and he’s a little relieved she (probably) hasn’t implanted a camera in his eyeball or something. He nods and pulls his T-shirt off, forgoes the fresh one in bag and tugs on the sweater, he feels his ribs grind together at the movement and the material sticks to his skin where it’s damp. Natasha texts Clint while Steve changes his boxers to give him the illusion of privacy, she looks back up to see him tugging the sweatpants back down over his socks. Her eye twitches when she sees how the clothes hang off him slightly, she pulls him into a hug before she can stop herself.

 

“You did the right thing. I would have helped.” 

 

“I’m still going to find him. Even if Tony- ” he swallows thickly, “isn’t okay with it.”

 

She looks him in the eye, “I know how much Barnes means to you.”

 

It’s the closest he’s going to get to approval so he nods, he’s not quite sure why he asked for it, but he did. Turning towards the door he forces one foot in front of the other, conscious of Natasha monitoring him from behind. Tony is in the kitchen when they enter and Steve’s stomach flips at how haggard he looks, and then flips again when he registers the smell he’s been trying to place as bacon. The fact that it took him so long scares him more than the notion that he’s about to puke all over Tony’s damn counter. He swallows and breathes in for the count of three. Natasha’s hand on his back guides him to a stool and he sits numbly, eyes fixed on the bacon and eggs in front of him so he doesn’t have to look at Tony’s swollen, red-rimmed eyes. 

 

“You have to eat Steve. When you’ve finished your plate we’ll talk.” 

 

Tony’s voice is so scarily normal around his mouthful of eggs (apart from the obvious concern) that Steve shudders. The movement itself seems to put everyone in the room on edge and Steve wants to rip his intestines out for being stupid enough to not suppress it. Tony returns to eating and Natasha and Pepper pointedly don’t look at him so he shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing as little as possible before swallowing. His stomach churns angrily at the presence of food and he thinks he might just spew it straight back out but he puts some bacon in his mouth to stop himself. When he has finished the plate he downs a glass of orange juice in the hopes it will wash away the bitter taste in his mouth, it helps a little, but his stomach feels so full he thinks it’s going to explode. He imagines his guts, blood and breakfast sprayed all over the eggshell blue walls. The image gives him a sick sense of satisfaction and he has to stop a smile creeping onto his face. Dum-E collects the plates and puts them in the dishwasher, before noisily leaving the room, as if it could sense the tension between the humans. The door shutting behind it seems to echo through the room and Steve feels himself tense at the same time he sees Tony stiffen. Nat leans her weight casually against the island, but Steve sees it for what it really is, she’s putting herself closer to both Steve and Tony, offering comfort. 

 

“Thank you for telling me.”

 

The statement takes Steve by surprise, his head snaps up and he hates how earnest Tony’s eyes are and how raw his voice is. He’s never wanted to be anywhere less, and he’s been in some pretty fucking sticky situations in his life. He clears his throat, glances at Natasha, then just plunges head first into possibly the worst decision of his life, again he’s had many.

 

“It wasn’t his fault.”

 

“I know,” the words burn on the way out, and Tony knows he looks like he just ate a lemon, but he thinks of Rhodey, “and I know that you’re gonna find him. You can… you can use Friday to help, but I need some time before I… do anything.” 

 

Steve smiles and nods and ignores his stomach saying he’s going to be sick. 

 

Tony continues, “When you do, I want to make sure he’s safe, that he won’t hurt anyone else. I’ll help with all that - somehow - when I can.” 

 

Nat places her hand over Steve’s. “But the deal is you take some time off. Clint’s going to take over the training and you’re -”

 

“Clint’s retired.” His face is blank, but anger tints his words

 

“It’s just training.” Tony sighs tiredly.

 

“You’re going to take a couple weeks to get your head straight. No Avengers, no looking for Barnes” he ignores Tony’s flinch at the name “and when you’re good, we’ll carry on looking, together.” 

 

He nods. He stands. He lunges to the sink and pukes up the bacon and eggs. It’s not as satisfying as his stomach exploding. Tony’s at his side, hand on his back before Natasha can even get there, because he doesn’t hate Steve, and isn’t that just another punch in the gut, he heaves again but nothing but stomach acid comes up. It burns. This time he does mouth a Hail Mary, he still doesn’t think he believes in God, but it burns. He mutters sorry and turns away, finding himself face to face with an irritatingly sympathetic Pepper holding a glass of water. He accepts the water gratefully even though it pains him to do it. Natasha is watching him from where she had stood from the stool. The room is silent and he can feel all of their eyes on him as he sips at the water, trying to dislodge the taste.

 

“Good thing you brought your toothbrush.” She says it lightly but Steve knows that she’s actually going to murder him for letting whatever the fuck is wrong with him get this bad, and he feels a happy flutter in his chest at the idea. Then he thinks about Bucky out there alone and confused, and Tony next to him trying to rebuild himself after yet another blow and Steve hates himself for feeling sorry for himself, for wanting that (again).

 

“I think I’m going to call Sam. Just let him know I’m okay.” He smiles blandly at them all, and Pepper nods her approval.

 

“Good idea” Nat says, she’s already called him then. “I’ll make you some toast.”

 

Steve walks out, muscles tensing and untensing as he tries to quell the anger building up at being treated like a child. When he gets to his room he finds his bag from the back of his bike sitting on the bed. One of the bots probably. He brushes his teeth so he feels cleaner and forces himself to walk out of the ensuite before he gets back in the damn shower. He doesn’t have much battery but it’s enough to call Sam. He goes onto the balcony but he can still hear Natasha’s heartbeat, which means she can hear his so he voltes over the railing and onto the grassy cliff bellow, walking to the edge and sits looking out to the sea. He remembers watching the news video of the previous house collapsing a few years ago and his chest tightens just remembering how scared he’d been that Tony was dead. He wondered if Tony felt the same way when he watched the Triskelion go down. He decide probably not. 

 

He looks out to the sea and calls Sam. It rings once before Sam picks up.

 

“ _ Fuck you Steve!” _

 

“I deserve that.”

 

“ _ Damn right you deserve that. You gave me a heart attack. And Nat, I’ve never heard her that panicked, and I met her after she got blown up.”  _

 

Pause. He’s supposed to say sorry now but he waits.

 

“ _ We can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep doing this, Steve. I know he needs you and you need him and you’re tangled up in each other til kingdom come or whatever but this ain’t healthy. You’ve got to stop.” _

 

“I know Sam. I’m sorry. I’m gonna take a few weeks get my head on straight before I keep looking.”

 

“ _ Good, man, good. I’ll be back in a week okay? Just don’t get yourself killed for 7 days and then I’ll be back to look after your sorry ass.” _

 

Steve chuckles, it’s almost genuine, “Alright Sam.”

 

“ _ And Steve?” _

 

“Yeah?”

 

“ _ Eat something.”  _

 

The line cuts out.


	3. Love thy neighbour

He’s still staring at the ocean when Nat’s voice comes from behind him.

 

“Thinking about jumping?”

 

“Didn’t work out so well last time I took a dip.”

 

She chuckles but the lack of humour in it makes him think she knows what he really meant by that. She doesn’t pursue it, just sits next to him and hands him a plate with plain, brown toast on it. He takes a bite because now that everyone’s talking about it, he’s pretty sure he can feel his body starting to deteriorate - and he might be a little hungry. He hadn’t really meant to not eat, he just had other things to do, more important things to do; then it became harder to eat than to not eat, just like it had in the war when rations were low, just like it had before the war when Steve was sick. She touches him slightly with the side of her body and he’s embarrassed by how much he relishes her touch and the warmth it provides.

 

“So what do you want to do for the next two weeks?”

 

“Oh I get to chose now?” He aims for sarcastic but hits bitter.

 

“You haven’t been eating or sleeping properly for nearly 6 months, Steve.” Her tone is condescending rather than concerned. He’s not sure which is worse.

 

“Tony’s never done either, I don’t see him on house arrest.”

 

“You’re not on house arrest and you’re being a child. You’re always concerned about Tony. That’s why you’re here.”

 

Steve hangs his head because yeah, he’s being a damn child, because he’s angry and he can’t just go find some asshole in an alleyway to beat up anymore because he’d probably end up killing the guy. And he’s tired, really fucking tired. He looks at the water and then turns to Nat.

 

“I’ll be better now it’s off my chest. That was what was eating me.”

 

Despite the confidence in his voice she raises her eyebrow skeptically and barely swallows a scoff. He sighs and looks at his bare feet in the grass.

 

“Will you sleep with me?”

 

“You propositioning me, Rogers?” She says with a smirk. It’s a dance they’ve done before.

 

He finishes his toast and gets up, she follows. The kitchen is empty when he dumps the plate in the sink and he’s relieved. He notices the sheets on his bed have been changed so they’re no longer damp and he shuts the lights off as Friday brings the blinds down. He feels Natasha slide in next to him and manoeuvre him out of his sweater before she puts his head in her lap and begins carding her hand through his hair.

 

——————

 

That’s how Pepper finds them when she comes to call them for lunch. She’s about to back out the room and let him sleep, but the second Natasha stops her hand he wakes, sitting up blinking owlishly.

 

“Lunch.” Pepper says awkwardly and then leaves a bit too quickly. She knows it’s not right but she’s a little relieved Steve’s eating habits are so fucked up otherwise there’s no way Tony would be eating regular meals after last night. He barely does that anyway, but he’s getting better at it now he’s going to therapy. Oh! She should call Nina and arrange an appointment for him. She shakes her head at herself for not thinking of it sooner, he’s already had three panic attacks since his talk with Steve. Tony’s laying out the plates and chopsticks with a lost look in his eye when she enters.

 

“Are you sure about asking him to stay here? Don’t you think you both need some time apart to process?”

 

“I’m sure Pep. Steve and I do... things better when we do them together. Learnt that with Ultron.”

 

She nods and kisses his cheek. She’s not sure it’s a good idea.

 

“And besides, he’s going to drive himself insane, more insane, if he’s in the compound with the newbies.” He leans in close to her, so their foreheads are almost touching and stage whispers, “Also his enhanced hearing means he can hear everything we’re saying so it would be kinda of rude to change my mind now.”

 

She blushes and he laughs and she’s a little worried by how well he’s dealing, she’s waiting for other shoe to drop. The four of them sit around the table and eat and it’s gloriously, disturbingly normal. Steve eats a portion of noodles and a Katsu Curry which is one dish less than he normally would but he doesn’t puke it back up and it's the most he’s eaten for ages so it relaxes everyone. There isn’t much conversation apart from the occasional topic brought up by Pepper or Natasha when the silence slips from comfortable to oppressive. Steve has just finished his second take out dish when Tony puts down his chopsticks and clears his throat.

 

“So, I, we were thinking maybe you might like to stay here during your little sabbatical. You know clear your head by the ocean, you could meet with my therapist and talk it might help you -”

 

“I was thinking of visiting the Grand Canyon actually.”

 

“Oh?” Natasha questions before putting a piece of sashimi in her mouth.

 

“Yeah, Buck always wanted to go see -”

 

“Steve.” Tony says in voice that is somehow both warning and disappointed. Steve wonders if its something he learned off Howard.

 

“I’m not looking for him. I don’t think he’s going to be there. It’s something I kept meaning to do after I woke up, but I never got round to it. Guess I have the time to now.”

 

“Oh, well that sounds good. I can lend you a jet if you want?” Tony sounds just disappointed now. Steve wonders if it seems like he’s choosing Bucky over Tony in his ‘Buck-free’ time but he finds he can’t quite bring himself to care if that’s the case.

 

“I was going to take the bike. All American road trip and all that.” Steve can feel that his grin is a bit lopsided a he can only hope it makes it look more genuine because it’s anything but.

 

“Steve, I’m not sure you should go by yourself?” Pepper says, trying not to make it sound condescending. She fails.

 

“I’m not a child.” Steve says petulantly. Natasha kicks him under the table and whispers “Are too” so only he can hear it. Tony glares at him and he clears his throat.

 

“Sorry Pepper. Sam’s back next week so I figured I’d drive there myself and then he can come babysit me.” He smiles tightly and gets a sick sense of satisfaction at Pepper’s and Tony’s slightly aghast looks at his choice of words. Natasha rolls her eyes.

 

“No need to be a dick, Steve. We’re trying to help.” Tony is angry and Steve feels like shit because this is more about Tony than it is about him and he’s being selfish again, and he’s always so selfish and Tony is always so not.

 

“Sorry, default setting. You’re right.”

 

It enough to make Tony smirk at least so he takes it as a win. They finish the rest of their meal in silence but Steve’s guilt is making his stomach churn and he’s losing confidence in his ability to keep his meal in his stomach. He settles his hand over his stomach as if he could physically stop the food from rising above a certain point.

 

“When does Clint get to the compound?” He asks just as Pepper starts gathering the plates.

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

“Maybe I could borrow the jet to get back to the compound. I need to pack and I’d like to see him.”

 

Tony smiles, a little unsure, he can’t tell if Steve is being completely genuine or if he’s trying to make up for his snappiness with a compromise for Tony’s sake. He decides he doesn’t really care if it means he can keep an eye on Steve for another couple of days. He thinks maybe he wanted Steve to stick around because he’s always been better at looking after other people than himself and if Steve leaves he’s going to have to actually deal with this.  

  
Natasha drags Steve back upstairs, presumably in a effort to try and erase the deep black smudges from beneath his eyes and Tony goes to his office. He arranges for the jet to be ready for them tomorrow and to get Steve’s bike and Nat’s car delivered home. He does it himself because he needs to do _something_ to keep his mind occupied and his hands won’t stop shaking so he steers clear of the workshop. Once everything is organised he sits for a moment and feels himself start to drift. It’s a bad idea and he knows it. He ends up working on project he’s temporarily dubbed ‘Project Youtube’, not his most creative name but hey, he’s not at the top of his game right now. Anything to stop him thinking about Barnes, or how Rogers seems to be destined for a spiral Tony's not sure they can prevent. 


	4. The Lord will watch over your coming and going

Clint is already at the compound when Nat and Steve land. He greets them at the entrance to the garage from the air strip. Steve pretends not to notice him and Nat conversing about him with their eyes. He taps his fingers nervously inside the pocket of his leather jacket, and thinks maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea, he’d been avoiding it for a reason after all. Clint’s hand on his shoulder is steadying, after he gets over the initial shock of it, he must be pretty fucking out of it if he hadn’t noticed they’d reached him. Clint looks at him appraisingly, which he guesses is better than concernedly, but doesn’t seem to like what he sees much.

 

“You look worse than I expected, dude.” Ah, Clint, never one to sugarcoat it.

 

“Yeah, and you’re old.” He doesn’t say it with much humour but Clint laughs anyway.

 

“Yeah, well, not all of us can be ninety and wrinkle free, asshole.” He slides his hand round Steve’s shoulder as he pivots to walk through the door with them. Steve thinks it must be pretty uncomfortable given the height difference but Clint is leaning on him lazily and doesn’t seem to mind. His presence cheers Steve up a bit, it reminds him of how it was before Ultron… a bit. The others didn’t know how fucked up he was then.

 

“Sorry to drag you away from the kids.”

 

“Not a problem man, I see them plenty. Besides, Laura’s sister is coming to stay while I’m here. Trust me Aunt Kate is way more exciting than their dad.” He claps Steve on the shoulder, “How about you give me your training plans to look over while you pack and then we can catch up later.”

 

Steve ignores the look the two share around his chest and gives his assent, getting the files from his office, both he and Clint prefer working with hard copies, no matter how good Stark tech might be. Once he hands them over he heads to his room. The hallways are suspiciously empty but he pointedly ignores the fact as he walks the final few paces to his rooms. He can’t say he’s surprised to find Wanda sitting on his bed, but he’s caught off guard enough that he fails to stop a tired sigh passing his lips. She doesn’t even wait for him to close the door before she wraps her arms around his stomach. They stay like that for what seems like forever before she kisses his cheek and says,

“I was worried when Natasha started freaking out. I don’t know what is going on but I’m here for you if need,” he nods his acknowledgement, “I made you some of the apple pastries you like. Nervous cooking.”

 

“I’m going to be gone for a couple weeks.”

 

“I know. Be careful, please Steve.”

 

“Always.”

 

She sighs, shaking her head and kisses his cheek again before leaving. He sits next to the little box of pastries on the bed and hangs his head for a moment. He feels an urgent need to check that the gun he keeps strapped under the nightstand is still there. The idea of one of them finding it makes something swirl in his chest. It’s still there. He relaxes and starts blasting Nina Simone from his phone to drown out the background noise in his head while he re-packs his bags for the trip. He opens the bottom draw of his desk and stares at the untouched sketchbook and pencils until the song changes. He runs a shaking hand over his face before picking up the smallest book and a pack of pencils and shoving them in the bottom of his bag. He leaves the shield on his bed until he’s finished packing, it feels heavier than it ever has before when he picks it up. He runs his hands over the marks from Peggy’s bullets, allowing himself to wallow in self-pity for a moment before he imagines Dum Dum slapping him upside the head and he pulls himself together, putting the shield on the top shelf of his wardrobe. He won’t need it for this.

 

He spaces out sitting in his desk chair letting the music make the all consuming numbness feel natural, it’s basically meditation, right? It makes the tremors in his hands stop at least. His mind stops glitching out when clint raps on the door telling him dinner’s ready. When he looks at his bedside clock it reads 19.09, great, he’s only been sitting in this chair for four hours. He notices the music has stopped, he should have put the playlist on repeat. He lets out a puff of air at the thought of moving.

 

Clint knocks again, “Cap?”

 

Steve opens his mouth to reply but the inside of his mouth feels hot and dry and his words catch in his throat. Clint pushes the door open, eyebrows drawn in concern. He’s had a haircut Steve notices.

 

“You cut your hair?” Not the words he intended to come out of his mouth and they seem to concern Clint more than his silence had.

 

“Yeah…” he takes a single step over the threshold of the room, “Are you okay Steve?”

 

“I’m just dandy.”

 

He gets out of the chair, clenching his teeth as his ribs grind and his knees protest. He's pretty sure he’s not supposed to _feel_ ninety.

 

“You said dinner’s ready? Lead the way.”

 

“Nah man, age before beauty.” Clint presses himself against the door to let Steve pass.

 

“I’m 31.”

 

“Yeah, yeah and I’m 21, grandpa.” Clint jokes, pushing him into the hallway playfully. It makes Steve’s gut stab with pain where Buc- The Winter Soldier - shot him, he plasters on a dazzlingly fake smile to cover it up.  

 

Natasha is waiting for them in the kitchen and the table is only laid for three. She tells him that Rhodey’s out of town and Wanda and Vision are having a ‘we’re totally just friends’ dinner elsewhere. Nat hands him an open beer and the coldness of the bottle makes him shudder, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the other two, but he gratefully takes a gulp, realising how thirsty he really is. He wishes it was some of Thor’s special mead-shit, then maybe he could actually relax. Clint's made meatballs and pasta which is surprisingly edible and Steve eats almost a normal amount. They end up rehashing old stories, mostly of Natasha and Clint’s missions, they’re all three animated and laughing but the hollow feeling in Steve’s chest lets him know that he’s really just going through the motions, so he keeps chugging the beers, hoping for a buzz, knowing it won’t happen. They’re halfway through the third six-pack (Clint and Tasha are both on their third bottle) when Clint addresses the elephant in the room.

 

“You sure you’re good to go on your own? You seem kinda off, man.”

 

Steve sighs, “Yeah, I want to be on my own for a bit, drive across state, visit some art museums, national parks. I haven’t had any real time for myself since I came out of the ice.”

 

Clint nods, pauses, “So you admit you’re off?”

 

Nat elbows him but keeps her eyes on Steve just in case he’s finally low enough to admit it. Steve just sighs and finishes beer number 12. He’s never been good at admitting weakness, much less asking for help. Clint puts the rest of the pack back in the fridge.

 

“You wanna watch a movie?”

 

“I’m just going to call it a night. I plan on setting out early tomorrow morning.”

 

“Alright dude. Well you know I don’t do early so I’ll say goodbye now.”

 

Clint gives him a tight hug, thumps him on the back a couple times, tells him to stay safe and check in with them. Nat orders Clint to do the dishes and links her arm with Steve’s to escort him back to his room. When they get to his door she turns him towards her and squeezes his hand.

 

“Want my company?”

 

He shakes his head, and she sighs disappointedly. Steve’s been noticing people do that around him a lot lately. She kisses his cheek then punches his shoulder for good measure. He ruffles her hair in retaliation which seems to cheer her up, she masks it fake (but deadly) annoyance. After they part he takes a long shower, hot this time, hot enough to leave his skin red. He sets his alarm for 04.30 and proceeds to stare at the ceiling waiting he falls asleep or dissociates. When his alarm goes off he’s not sure which he ended up doing. There were no nightmares so he thinks probably not sleep.

 

He’s pulling out of the compound’s garage at 05.01, gun tucked into the back of his pants where the bottom of his shield usually rests. He has 6 days until Sam arrives at the Grand Canyon, and he has a lot to do. In the corner of his eye he thinks he sees Nat standing in the window, watching as he speeds down the driveway.


End file.
